by Nick Gisburne
Strange are the stories of legend and mystery
Whispers and rumours, old tales of the sea
Each has its keeper, a mind to remember it
Hear now the history given to me
Far to the North, where the sea freezes easily
There, on a desolate island of stone
Cloistered in poverty, humble in piety
Dwelt a disciple, a hermit, alone
Long had he struggled with scripture and solitude
Doubting his faith and contesting his creed
Filled with despondence, unbearable loneliness
Bound by his vows, how he longed to be freed
Only the boat bringing food to the hermitage
Broke for a moment his growing despair
Even these visits were silent and spiritless
Angered, he muttered a blasphemous prayer
“Spare me from misery,” murmured the mendicant
“Trapped on this island of wandering seals
Gannets and guillemots, puffins and cormorants
Why should they fly while a wretched man kneels?”
“What would I give for a minute of happiness?
What would I sell for one glorious day?
What, for a year, to abandon the emptiness?
Gladly my soul would I barter away!”
Evil, malevolent forces were listening
God turned away as the bargain was made
Darkness infected the skies with its wickedness
Raising a tempest, the price to be paid
Seething and surging, the withering thunderstorm
Lashed with a murderous, merciless roar
Shattering waves hurled invincible energy
Rearing as demons, they pounded the shore
Splinters of lightning ripped open the firmament
Bursting the heavens and boiling the seas
Madness invaded the house of the heretic
Worshipping, laughing, he fell to his knees
Only the dawn broke the cycle of violence
Fog filled the morning, oppressive and grey
Chasing the storm it flowed back to the underworld
Now, in the sands and the shingle, she lay
Colder than mist on a whispering waterfall
Soft as a promise, the ghost of a dream
Flowing hair blacker than darkest obsidian
Lustrous, her flesh seemed to shimmer and gleam
Was she illusion, a twist of reality?
Angel or demon, or something between?
Why had the storm brought this goddess, a girl, to him?
Was there some trick, a deception unseen?
Layers of subtlety, cryptic and sinister
What was the oddity found at her side?
Long as her body and slit down the length of it
Some kind of curious animal hide
But, as he stroked it, he fathomed the mystery
Slowly he lifted the thing to his cheek
Priceless and precious as life, this was selkie skin
Mottled and leathery, supple and sleek
Gently he carried her up to the hermitage
Wrapped her in blankets and bundles of straw
Somehow her beauty was flawless, impossible
Sleeping, he watched her with deepening awe
She was a selkie, no question or argument
Shape-shifting seal-heart, a child of the sea
Shedding her skin, she could blend with humanity
Slipping it on she might swim away, free
Well he remembered the troublesome fairytale
Selkies will always leave humans behind
Quickly, he folded the skin and then buried it
Cruel deceptions came swiftly to mind
Softly he woke her with sorrow and sympathy
“Gone is your selkie skin, damaged and lost
Torn by the rocks, you can never see home again
I will protect you, whatever the cost”
First there were days of incredible suffering
Mourning the loss of what helped her to live
Patient, he comforted all of her agonies
Soothing her, showing the love he might give
Then there were glimmers of blossoming tenderness
Slowly the selkie accepted her fate
Trusting a man who could soften the tragedy
Healing the harm he had helped to create
Always she longed to return to the waterfront
Watching the seals as they followed the tide
Always he told her the pain could return to her
Better to follow his counsel, inside
Openly courting her, artful and devious
Weaving a tangle of promise and lies
Finally all of the selkie’s anxieties
Melted away to leave love in her eyes
Dark and enticing, the deepest of emeralds
Witnessed the man who had salvaged her life
“All is forgotten now, buried in history
Here will I stay as your lover and wife”
Now the disciple, with sinful iniquity
Took her and used her and made her his own
Vows of obedience, chastity, poverty
Into the flames of his passion were thrown
Days that were sweet became tainted with bitterness
Promises broken and feelings betrayed
Fearing his anger, the selkie would sing to him
Always obedient, always afraid
She was a vessel to fill with his weaknesses
Blaming her presence for all of his pain
Restless, he plotted to leave and be done with her
Only her beauty had made him remain
Food became scarce, his supplies feeding both of them
Finally, starving, the boat was now due
“Hide yourself, woman, you must not be visible”
Now, through the mist, came the vessel he knew
Leaving, he rushed to receive the delivery
Helping to tie up the boat on the shore
Longing to speak, he was noisy and arrogant
Neither had broken their silence before
“Hail to you, brother! May faith never trouble you!
Hail to the god who enslaves us in chains!”
Tripping the rower he kicked him relentlessly
Swinging a boat hook, he dashed out his brains
Dumping the corpse for the waters to swallow it
Startled, he spied an assembly of seals
Floating together, their dark eyes gazed up at him
Spooked and unsettled, he turned on his heels
How to explain why the boat had no mariner?
Why should he tell her, and what could she do?
Yearning to flaunt his success as a murderer
Filled with contempt, his malevolence grew
“All is prepared for the journey ahead of us
Freedom to live under different skies”
But the young selkie grew fearful and hesitant
Something disturbing was clouding her eyes
“How can I stray from the sea, from my family
Leaving the people who gave me my life?”
Angry, the hermit rebuked all her challenges
“Seals are but animals. You are my wife”
Roughly he pulled at her, frantic and terrified
Dragged her and ordered her into the boat
Tied her with ropes then returned to the hermitage
Sobbing, she clutched at the noose at her throat
Breaking the swell of the surface, soft ripple rings
Spreading, colliding, then fading away
Shadow-forms, spinning and dancing delightfully
Deep in the waters, the seal-folk at play
Helpless, she mourned for the loss of her family
One man alone was the source of her fears
Moments, mere glimpses, her last, to remember them
Bowing her head she cried seven small tears
Delicate droplets of infinite agony
Flowed from the emptiest depths of her heart
Seven, they sparkled and vanished like miracles
Pulling her sensitive spirit apart
Seven, the number of heads at the waterline
Seven, the figures who rose from the sea
Seven, the men who walked out from their selkie skins
Seven, together, to do what must be
Striding in silence they climbed to the hermitage
Watched as the sinner stepped out of the door
Loaded with relics and worthless accoutrements
All of them struck from his hands to the floor
Pain was his punishment, brutal and merciless
Long they delivered it, all he deserved
Battered and bludgeoned until he lay whimpering
Broken, they left him, his sentence now served
Yet, as they turned, they left one speck of wickedness
This was his vengeance, his poison, his sin
“Demons delivered it, these hands have buried it
Buried what’s dear to her – buried her skin!”
Murderous rage filled the eyes of the selkie-men
Lifting the hermit they carried him high
Down to the shoreline and down to the rowing boat
Down to his knees to atone for his lie
Pity was all that her feelings could find for him
Free from the ropes now, she stepped to his side
“How could I ever imagine you cared for me?
I was your victim, but never your bride”
“Give me the skin, or reveal where you buried it
Tell me what rock you have put it beneath
Tell me and live to return to your misery”
“Never!” He sneered through the blood on his teeth
Kneeling before him she nodded regretfully
One of the selkie-men pulled back his head
Gripping his throat she remembered his promises
When she released him his body was dead
Selkies may visit the land, though reluctantly
Always they long to return to the sea
So went the seven, but she could not follow them
Only with selkie skin could she be free
Trapped on the island, she combed every inch of it
Was she made whole again? Only she knows
Hear how she sings – yes, the selkie remembers it
Listen, she cries, when the winter wind blows
